


close enough to make it hurt

by lucy_is_a_rocketship



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (is there another kind of Anakin?), (it's Shmi and Qui Gon), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angry Anakin Skywalker, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Pre-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Sad Obi-Wan Kenobi, and therapy, for his rage issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_is_a_rocketship/pseuds/lucy_is_a_rocketship
Summary: Still reeling from his mother's death and increasingly strained as the war begins to heat up, Anakin lashes out at Obi Wan.But he had. Spat the words in Obi Wan’s face, and watched his Master’s expression freeze before turning utterly flat."Qui Gon would have freed my mother."
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 97





	1. give me grief

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I do not know when exactly Anakin was knighted, so we're pretending he's still a Padawan here. And a mess, but honestly, his mother just died and he's not exactly practising the healthiest coping mechanisms (he's ignoring the problem). Also, this is not beta'ed, I tried to proof read it, but I wanted to upload, so if you spot mistakes let me know

He shouldn’t have said it.

Anakin kicked a loose rock and listened to it crack against the stone floor as it disappeared further into the tunnel, sound echoing off the walls. But he had. Spat the words in Obi Wan’s face, and watched his Master’s expression freeze before turning utterly flat.

_Qui Gon would have freed my mother._

A sour part of Anakin knew he was right, Qui Gon had wanted to free his mother, had looked so sad when he had to tell them Watto had only bet on Anakin. His grandmaster would have seen Shmi freed and relocated to some other planet, somewhere safe, away from the Hutts and the filthy tusken raiders. Naboo, maybe.

He still shouldn’t have said it. It didn’t matter that they’d finished a month long siege mere hours ago, that Anakin couldn’t escape the phantom feeling of blood drying on his clothes, that they hadn’t slept a full night in weeks, that they had ships full of injured men and were running low on everything. Anakin should have kept quiet.

He should turn around, head back to the base, help the men finish setting up at the tunnel entrance. He could take Obi wan aside and apologise. Anakin felt his face heating up and was glad no one else was around to see.

He’d regretted the words immediately after, they’d left a foul taste in his mouth and now, walking down another level, deeper into the ruins, Anakin kept cringing and wincing to himself as Obi Wan’s expressionless face lingered in his mind.

But if he went back, even after apologising, Obi Wan would only make a mild comment about his manners or his temper and treat him a little cooly for a day or two, while Anakin dithered around trying to be as well behaved and supportive as possible to atone for his shameful words, then things would go back to normal.

He didn’t want to face his Master’s mild rebuke. Not yet.

Obi Wan was always willing to lecture Anakin whenever he lashed out at other people, when he was rude to planetary leaders, when he snubbed other masters in the temple. But he never criticised Anakin’s treatment of _him_ when it was bad. And this had been horrible. He wanted to know how to fix it, he wanted to apologise and know that Obi Wan truly understood how deeply regretful he was.

He wanted to know how to fix himself. But his temper seemed to hang on tenderhooks since the war had started, the rage was constant and thrummed under his skin like an itch. Too often he didn’t notice he’d lost control of it until something exploded. The childishness of the outbursts made him feel pathetic, helpless.

He missed his mother more now than he had since his first years at the temple. 

The tunnels were dusty. The ceiling was cracked in places where tree roots and burrowing animals had worked their way through and it smelled of the slow decay of vegetation that had been made its way inside over the centuries. Long stretches of some walls were almost perfectly preserved, protected from the elements by their underground construction.

Intricate carvings depicting figures and landscapes. Some figures reappeared as Anakin kept moving, but there was never enough material for him to figure out what the images meant, interrupted by crumbled sections of wall, or worn away by years of seeping water and shifting soil leaking through the ceiling. Obi Wan would be happy to spend time studying them at least.

He kept walking, using his lightsaber as a light source, hoping to come across some hidden passage, or a preserved relic. Obi Wan loved history, Anakin had found him in the Archives at all hours, pouring over texts on extinct force user societies. His Master found old cultures and their practices fascinating for some reason. If Anakin found an old dusty headdress, perhaps he could use it as a peace offering.

It wouldn’t be enough. His attempts to show remorse never _felt_ like enough. Even though Obi Wan never said anything, the guilt lived sour and cold under his ribs, amplified with each new angry outburst.

Anakin turned another corner, and found himself standing at the edge of what had been a large hall. Some of the columns were laying in pieces on the ground, but most were still standing, rising far enough that Anakin could no longer see the ceiling. On the left side were three doorways, the central one was immense, at least twice Anakin’s height, the flanking two were slightly smaller.

On the right was a dais running the length of the hall. In the centre of it was a circular stone plinth so large it could have acted as a landing pad for his fighter. Anakin moved closer, climbing onto the dais. Six long stiff lines of metal, placed equidistant around the plinth, were reaching up, bending towards the centre, twisting around each other and joining to support a small bowl.

It was hardly a ceremonial headdress, but it certainly looked important enough. Anakin heaved himself up onto the plinth and pulled at the metal poles until he found one that seemed sturdy enough to hold him. Technically, he could have lifted the bowl with the force, but this place had been full of force users once. If the bowl had been imbued with some kind of response to the force, Anakin didn't want to find out by accidentally breaking it. He left his lightsaber resting on the plinth for light and shimmied up the pole, pleased when it didn't so much as sway or dip under his weight. At the top it was easy to twist around, grab another pole for balance and gently lift the bowl out of it's cradle. It was heavy and the weight was grounding in his hand.

With his hand wrapped around the bowl's side and its base nestled in the crook of his elbow, he slid back down to the plinth and moved towards the exit. 


	2. or let me go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Warning: THIS THING ENDS IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION. if open-ended fics are not for you, then maybe give this one a miss.

Anakin gets little lost on the way out of the tunnels and only finds the entrance because he heard some of the clones setting up the equipment they’d brought and follows the sound.

It was a nice planet, with a lot of green and rich foliage around the temple they’d been sent to find. He took a moment to revel in the feeling of fresh clean air in his lungs, and helped a squadron of the 212th put a temporary ceiling support in place before heading off to find Obi Wan. The Council was worried about potential force corruption in abandoned places like this.

Anakin understood the concern; with the sudden escalation of the war, Dooku’s reveal as a Sith and reports of another lightsaber-wielding darksider, the galaxy felt more rotten in force every day. But Anakin didn’t really see how it was more important for them to be here, rather than on any of the many planets already devastated by the war.

Maybe the ruins would contain some miraculous ancient knowledge that would tell them how to defeat the mysterious Sith Master and end the war, but Anakin doubted it. The Council probably just valued these pathetic abandoned ruins more than the lives of innocent people. The thought was bitter and unbecoming of a Jedi, but Anakin had clung to it for years in some form or another, kept it close to his heart, always sour and furious that his mother, his friends, even strangers, still chaffed under a slavers collar.

Anakin wanted to believe Obi Wan had been relieved to see him emerge safely, but when he’d handed the bowl to Obi Wan, his Master’s face had frozen over again, eyes very wide and the corners of his mouth tight. He launched into a barrage of questions about the bowl itself, where Anakin had found it, anything he’d noticed about the tunnels they should know going in, barely looking at Anakin the whole time, busy examining the bowl.

Anakin had felt his chest grow warm, answering the questions in detail as Obi Wan turned and twisted the old dusty thing in his gloved hands, peering at it from every angle. Until, after several minutes, Obi Wan had looked at him.

“Anakin, this is an unknown, undated artifact from a temple that hasn’t been occupied for at least eight-hundred years and you decided to simply pick it up? Without examining it first? What if it had been more fragile? Did you even take a holo of it before you moved it? Do you have any idea what …”

His toes felt numb, face suddenly hot with anger and shame. Anakin stared resolutely somewhere over Obi Wan’s shoulder, trying to let the lecture role over him, but the words seeped through the cracks in his guard. They always did.

_Reckless_

_Impulsive_

_Young one_

_Irresponsible_

He left small and unwanted under his master’s stern tone.

“Why not just kick me out then, if I make such a pathetic Jedi.”

For a moment Anakin cannot believe he was the one who had said it, even though he’d felt his mouth move, he’d let the words finally escape. Something stuttered in the force, like being struck with an electroprod, as Obi Wan gaped at him. Surprise. It was his masters’ surprise echoing in the force.

“Anakin, perhaps we could discuss this further in my tent,” Obi Wan said, voice low and firm.

Anakin nodded and followed Obi Wan across their small camp. Several of the men glanced at them as they went, curiousity and concern pulsing fainting in the force. Jaw clenched tight, Anakin avoided their eyes, ducking through the door of the command and relieved that the space was already bare of troopers.

Inside was spacious enough, with a light-weight plastasoid cabinet filled with data pads, and a folded-out desk that had a holo reciever at it’s centre, but the sudden quiet was a stifling fist around his lungs. On instinct, Anakin stepped to the far side of the space, away from Obi Wan, hands clasped and gaze down. The itch to make himself small had never waned, even after a decade with the Jedi. Discipline in the temple could not be more different from the Hutts, defiance was met with calm speaches on philosophy, long explanations on why the Jedi behaved as they did. Acting out resulted in questioning rather then whippings. This would just be another one of many soft reprimands Anakin had endured since leaving Tattooine.

“Anakin, why do you think I would ever want to cast you out of the Order?”

“You know why, Master,” Anakin said.

“I don’t. There are no reasons I know of that would prevent you from becoming a Jedi Knight when your training is complete,” Obi Wan said. He took a step forward and Anakin twitched. The words were probably meant to be comforting, but they mocked Anakin instead. His prosthetic knuckles whined as his fists clenched.

“I should never have been trained, I was too old, too attached. Too angry, dangerous.”

_I slaughtered them like animals._

“Anakin-”

“Why didn’t the Jedi free my mother? Why didn’t you send me back to her? I could have been happy with her, even on Tattooine-”

Obi Wan moved forward and picked up Anakin’s hands, gently gripping tight fists in his warm firm palms. Anakin looked up at him.

“I want her back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out a way for Obi Wan to explain his behaviour without it sounding ridiculous. I really do believe that the Jedi's moral philosophy on compassion and care for life should have included letting Anakin free his mother from slavery, but I think Lucas just really needed that plot point to make sure we got a dramatic murder scene and Fall To The Dark Side.  
> And having Obi Wan tell Anakin he couldn't free Shmi because Jedi don't have family or don't practice attachment is just ... bullshit, we see them get sad and emotional and grief-stricken all the time. 
> 
> Anyway, enough ranting, if you liked it, let me know in the comments, and if you spot grammactical mistakes too so I can fix them!

**Author's Note:**

> Anakin making judgements about Qui Gon based on the short time he spent with the man at the age of nine is ... not the wisest character assessment, but the guy definitely left a positive impression and who could blame Anakin for hanging onto that?
> 
> I might write a second chapter where these fool boys talk about their problems, so ... tell me if you liked it?


End file.
